We'd guessed that. Blake wasn't the type to forgive people-especially when they'd embarrassed the hell out of him. So is this ability to sense magic another skill you're siphoning from someone?
I felt Kye smile again. No, this time it's a talent that's inherited from the pack.
This would be the pack that supposedly has no psychic skills whatsoever?
That's the one. I'm sensitive to the presence of magic, but I cannot use it like I can psychic talents.
But that's how you tracked that sorcerer to the warehouse?
That and the smell of death.
I nodded. At least it explained how he'd come to be watching the sorcerer from within the shadows of her black wall rather than walking straight through it and getting sprung as I had.
But then, I hadn't expected to find hellhounds or a sorcerer-just a dead man walking. Kye obviously had a better idea of what was going on than I did when he'd walked into that place.
The farther we moved down the hallway, the staler the air felt, and I had the odd sensation that we were moving down into the earth itself. There was little noise in this place, and the silence felt heavy, as if it was carrying a weight that it didn't want and we couldn't see.
The floorboards beneath my feet gave way to colder concrete, then to a mix of dirt and stone. Grit wedged in between my toes, forcing me to pause every now and again to shake it lose. Despite the earth flooring, the walls and ceiling were still concrete-although it was rough looking, as if it had been slapped on in a hurry, and without care.
The crawl of magic began to get stronger, its touch stinging like angry gnats. Something stark and white appeared in my infrared. I switched to normal vision, saw a flickering golden glow begin to seep through the darkness ahead. It framed a rough-hewn archway that had only been half concreted.
I couldn't sense anyone or anything waiting, but my uneasiness grew.
Looks like the sort of light you get from a torch, Kye commented. Though his mind voice was flat and without emotion, his tension rolled over me, increasing my own. It's an odd choice when were under the earth and there seems to be little ventilation.
I cant smell any smoke, though. And I don't think our sorcerers would be too worried about air quality.
Or life, for that matter.
Because the magic wasn't the only thing that was getting stronger. The stink of blood and death rode the air, so powerful that even my wolf soul was turning her nose.
We approached the arch cautiously. Dust stirred the air with each step, but little else seemed to be moving.
I cant feel or smell anyone, Kye said.
No, but they may have laid traps of the magical kind. We need to be careful.
Then you go low, and I'll go high.
There was a whisper of movement, and suddenly I felt the burn of silver across my skin. How the hell did you get a weapon into the club undetected? And how come I didn't sense it before this?
He raised an eyebrow. You have a psychic sense about guns?
No, I'm allergic to silver.
We all are. We're werewolves. Amusement laced his mental tone.
Well, yeah, but I've been hit too often by it and I'm now extrasensitive to its presence. So how did you conceal that weapon?
The weapon is in a lead-lined holster, and if you know whom to pay, you can get anything you like into this club.
So whom did you bribe?
His smile flashed. There's no need to bribe when the manager is fucking a stripper, and the wife knows nothing about it.
And how do you happen to know that?
Because I bugged him. Made for interesting listening, I have to say.